


ʻaiʻē pono

by f0rcryin0utl0ud



Series: Hawaii 5-0 Season 10 Episode Tags, Missing Scenes, Codas [3]
Category: Hawaii Five-0 (2010)
Genre: Angst, Episode Tag, Humor, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Pre-Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-09
Updated: 2020-03-09
Packaged: 2021-03-12 22:35:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,704
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23086147
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/f0rcryin0utl0ud/pseuds/f0rcryin0utl0ud
Summary: It is dark outside, he doesn't remember the last time he's had a good night's sleep, and Steve won't just tell him what the hell is going on in that thick skull of his and it's all been culminating in a dull ache in Danny's stomach that has only been growing with every night that has passed with Steve continuing his nightly vigil across his bedroom floor.
Relationships: Steve McGarrett/Danny "Danno" Williams
Series: Hawaii 5-0 Season 10 Episode Tags, Missing Scenes, Codas [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1801882
Comments: 13
Kudos: 197





	ʻaiʻē pono

**Author's Note:**

> This is another tag to 10x19. Someone commented on my last fic about a possible reason for why Steve might be pacing/not sleeping at night, and how they might possibly end the series and it just got stuck in my head. This is a fixit of sorts in case that is where they go, because I'll be gutted if they really do.
> 
> Title: Debt Owed

Danny isn't sure at what point Steve's pacing had started to interfere with his own ability to sleep, interfere with his own ability to proudly declare himself ulcer free (and after ten years working with McGarrett, that was something to be god damn proud of, dammit) but it does, it is and Danny dreads when Steve announces he's heading upstairs, ostensibly to 'go to bed' because Danny knows he's doing no such thing. 

In the beginning, Danny had tried to ignore it, tell himself Steve would talk to him when he was ready. Then he'd started tossing and turning himself on the couch, ignoring Eddie who had taken to sitting beside him and staring at him like he was trying to guilt Danny into getting the hell off the couch Steve had promised Eddie was his. He'd moved on to watching TV with the headphones Steve had given him many years ago, but had given that up pretty quickly, because he found it stressed him out even more if he _couldn't_ hear if Steve was still pacing or not.

Now, now Danny was just desperate enough at o'dark thirty in the morning that he throws the blankets off his legs and huffs disgustedly as Eddie practically pushes him out of the way in his hurry to jump on the couch when Danny stands up, curling in Danny's warm spot. He's marching into the kitchen in t-shirt and boxers, flipping on the light and squinting angrily around him. He doesn't even know what time it is, doesn't bother to check the clock, just begins muttering to himself as he sets the coffee pot to rights, ready to brew when Danny is ready for it, before he starts yanking things out of the fridge. Eggs, milk; then pulling things from various cupboards, flour and sugar and secret ingredients that he's learned over the years that add just an extra burst of flavor to the tongue. He tries not to slam the bowl on the counter, but he's annoyed and is making probably more noise than he should, but he doesn't really care at this point.

It is dark outside, he doesn't remember the last time he's had a good night's sleep, and Steve won't just tell him what the hell is going on in that thick skull of his and it's all been culminating in a dull ache in Danny's stomach that has only been growing with every night that has passed with Steve continuing his nightly vigil across his bedroom floor.

By the time he's flipping the first pancakes in the pan, he hears the shuffling of feet at the kitchen door and knows without looking that it's Steve. Danny's lips thin and he doesn't lift his gaze from the batter sizzling in front of him. When they're done he flips them onto a plate and holds the plate out without a word. Steve takes it and Danny pours more batter into the pan, still silent.

He can hear Steve moving around behind him, getting the butter, the syrup, knives and forks. Hear the stool Steve drags from the corner over to the island where he sits and begins to eat, also all without a word.

Danny has a pretty good mountain of pancakes made by the time he turns the stove off, turning around to find Steve staring at him, his eyes unreadable. Danny huffs at him in annoyance as he puts the plate on the island, grabs his own stool and a plate for himself. He isn't actually hungry – hasn't really felt much like eating since he started worrying about what was going on with Steve – but he makes a pretty mean pancake, and it'd be a shame not to at least try them.

Steve watches him eat, still silent. Danny lets him.

When he puts his fork down, Steve takes a deep breath.

“Danno,” he murmurs, “I need to tell you something.”

And Danny thinks the pancakes he just ate might be about to come right back up at the tone in Steve's voice. Suddenly Danny doesn't want to know. He wants to go back to wondering what the hell is going on, and listening to Steve pace, and worrying, and just being in the god damn dark, because at least then...at least then he could pretend that it wasn't something that was going to destroy his whole god damn world.

“I had an appointment with the doctor,” Steve keeps going, not hearing Danny's internal screaming of 'no, no, no! This is not fucking happening!' and Danny feels like he can't breathe, like his chest is too tight, like he might be having a heart attack. There's a buzzing in his ears, he isn't sure he's even hearing everything that Steve is saying. 

“We knew there was a chance there would be side effects,” he's saying. “We just thought it would be years down the road.”

Danny sucks in a shocked breathe because Jesus, no. “No,” he rasps.

“Danno.”

“No,” he says again, firmer. “This is bullshit!”

Steve closes his eyes and his jaw tenses and Jesus, what the fuck is Danny doing? He shoves himself off of his stool and Steve's eyes snap open, but Danny is already around the island, grabbing him, pulling him close and into a crushing hug. He isn't sure he'll ever let go. “Danno,” Steve murmurs again and Danny's throat closes and he squeezes his eyes shut and holds Steve tighter.

“We'll get through this,” he grounds out past the lump in his throat. He sounds as wrecked as he feels. “Whatever it takes.”

“Danny,” Steve sighs, and Danny pulls back because he knows that fucking tone too and he does _not_ god damn like it at all. “I've already started making arrangements with the governor,” he says, like it's a done deal and Danny's eyes narrow dangerously, just daring Steve to say what Danny thinks he's going to say. “I've already approved Adam rejoining the task force. You'll take over as the head of 5-0...”

“Fuck that,” Danny says viciously, taking a step back completely so he can start pacing around the kitchen. “If you think for one second,” he starts but has to stop, because of course, _of course_, he did. Danny turns and glares at him. “What the fuck is _wrong_ with you?” Danny shouts.

“Other than having cancer?” Steve asks drily. 

“Don't,” Danny snaps. “Do not do that!”

Steve rubs a hand over his face. “Danny,” he starts again.

“Ohana,” Danny growls, moving closer to poke Steve in his chest. “Ten years you've been demanding I buy into that whole island family thing, and you think what, because you're sick, suddenly it doesn't mean the same thing anymore? What about me exactly makes you think that I would ever,_EVER_, walk away from someone I love that needed me?”

“I never meant for Ohana to be an obligation, Danny. You have the kids, you have 5-0, a life. The last thing you need is to start worrying about whether I survive this.”

“Jesus,” Danny swears, poking Steve again, harder this time. “First off, you are _not_ a fucking _obligation_, Steven. You are _family_. Secondly, I was the one who was talking about retiring a couple years ago, do you not remember that? When all this shit,” he gestures at Steve's torso where he remembers in vivid detail strapping the god damn truck battery to his chest, “started. You think I'd have a problem with retirement now, when I'm even older and more tired, and have an even better reason to do so?” Steve opens his mouth to interrupt but Danny holds up his hand to stop him, raising his voice slightly, “Thirdly, and you listen good here, Steven, because you need to get this through your god damn head, I will _never_ stop worrying about you – whether you are chasing down bad guys, facing down cancer, or one hundred percent healthy, happy, and sitting beside me out on that beach.” He gestures out toward Steve's backyard, his heart aching at the shock in Steve's face. “You're my partner, you're my god damn best friend, you asshole, and _you are family_,” Danny hisses out the last again, hoping this time it gets through to Steve that it _means_ something. “I am not going anywhere. We are going to get through this, _together_. Whether you like it or not.” Because anything else is just god damn unthinkable.

Steve swallows hard, biting the corner of his bottom lip for a moment before he nods. “Okay, Danno,” he agrees quietly.

“Okay?” Danny asks, still a little angry.

Steve reaches out and wraps a hand around Danny's forearm, pulling him closer. “Okay,” he promises.

Danny nods. Takes a deep breath and leans into Steve, presses his forehead to Steve's shoulder. “Okay,” he murmurs. He feels Steve's hand tentatively rub along his back and he lets out a shaky breath.

“Thanks for the pancakes,” Steve murmurs, and Danny can hear the grin in his voice now.

He snorts as he pushes away from him and gestures at the plate. “These were not for you,” he says instantly falling back into their bantering. “You have done nothing to deserve my delicious pancakes. I made these for myself.”

“Nothing other than take you in when you were virtually homeless, you mean?” Steve teases.

Danny waves a dismissive hand. “Oh please, you are lucky for the pleasure of my company in that scenario, babe.”

Steve ducks his head and Danny can see the smirk he's trying to hide. Before he can comment on it there's a noise at the kitchen door. They both turn to see a sleep rumpled Junior staring at them in confusion, before his eyes zero in on the stack of pancakes. Danny can hear his stomach growling from halfway across the kitchen.

He turns and grins at Steve, “Hey Junior,” he says, his eyes never leaving Steve's face, “I made you some welcome home pancakes.”

“Really?” Junior asks, sounding like an excited puppy – completely ignoring that he's been home a couple of weeks, that it's the middle of the night, that Steve is narrowing his eyes at Danny in a way that speaks of revenge. “Oh wow,” Junior is saying and both Danny and Steve turn to see that he's taken half the pancakes piled high on a plate, with butter and syrup, “these are _amazing_, Danny.” 

Steve reaches for a couple of the remaining pancakes but Danny slaps his hand away and grins at the way Steve pouts at him. Danny winks at him as he says, “Thank you, Junior.” 

Danny puts a pancake on Steve's plate and butters it, adds another, and butters that too, before doing the same to a third one and then adding just the right amount of syrup – just like he's done hundreds of times for Grace and Charlie. When he glances up, Steve is watching him with naked affection, a crooked grin on his face. Danny feels an answering grin on his own.

They both notice the silence in the kitchen at the same time and turn to find Junior watching them, a forkful of pancake halfway to his mouth, his eyes wide. “Uh,” he says before coughing pointedly and getting to his feet. “I think I'll finish these upstairs.”

Before either of them can saying anything – Danny about baby SEALS reading too much into a nice gesture, and Steve most likely about how pancakes should not be eaten in the bedroom (the control freak) – Junior is disappearing through the doorway and they can hear his feet on the stairs. Danny snorts, amused, as he turns back to Steve, about to make a joke about Junior reading into things but the words die in his throat at the look in Steve's eyes. There's the usual affection that Danny has grown used to, the usual hint of annoyance that only Danny can bring out (and he's very proud of that, thank you very much), but there's also a longing there that he's never seen before that nearly takes his breath away.

Danny is self-aware enough to know that he's thought about Steve like that before – wondered what it would be like, to touch him as more than just friends, work partners. He's never thought for one second though that anything could ever come of it, that Steve would ever be interested so he's done a fucking phenomenal job of burying those feelings for several years now, just happy with what he has with Steve, because what they have is pretty amazing.

But the look Steve has on his face now...like maybe he's wanted the same things as Danny has all along.

He could say something, break the moment and let them go back to being best friends, work partners, and he knows that Steve would let him. He never wants Danny to feel any kind of _obligation_ after all – isn't that what he'd said? The thing is, Danny has never felt obligation where Steve was concerned, and he doesn't want to go back to status quo. Not now that he knows...thinks he knows, hopes he knows, the truth.

Taking a steadying breath, Danny reaches out and curls a hand around the back of Steve's neck, watches as Steve's eyes widen at the same time they darken and he knows he isn't wrong and it's enough to give him the courage to step closer, even as he pulls Steve toward him, his heart pounding out a fast tattoo in his chest as their lips meet for the first time.

Whatever happens, they'll get through it together, just like Danny promised – but maybe a little more _together_ than he'd ever dared hoped possible and suddenly they're both grinning into the kiss and Steve pulls Danny tight against him. When they break apart, Steve looks at Danny and whispers, “Yeah?”

As if he even had to ask. Danny cups his cheek and runs his thumb over Steve's bottom lip. “Yes, Steven,” Danny murmurs. “Goof,” he adds for good measure.

Steve huffs out a laugh, and presses his forehead to Danny's breastbone taking a shuddering breath, his hands curl around Danny's back. “What if --”

Danny kisses the top of Steve's head, interrupting him, “No, babe. No what ifs. We're going to get through this, there's just no other option. We're going to watch Charlie grow up, see Gracie get married – many, _many_ years from now,” he feels Steve snort a laugh against his chest, “maybe Charlie will follow in our footsteps, hmm? We'll both be there to see him graduate from the academy. We'll be there when Grace has kids – to spoil our grandkids rotten, and we'll grow old in this house, sitting in our chairs out there in the backyard like proper grumpy old men.” Danny knows that maybe it's moving a little fast – planning for what amounts to a marriage, a life with Steve as his non-work partner, but at the same time it doesn't feel fast enough. It feels like they've wasted so much time.

Steve's breath is shuddering against him and Danny rubs his hands up and down his back, waiting. When Steve lifts his head, he looks wrecked. There are tear tracks down his cheeks, but he is grinning that big dopey grin that Danny loves so much. “That sounds perfect,” he rasps and Danny just has to kiss him again, and _fuck_ he doesn't think he could love this man any more if he tries. 

When Steve pulls back he takes a deep breath. “We'll have to tell the team.”

Danny nods, curling his fingers around Steve's wrist and tugging. “We will,” he promises. “Right now though, we both could use some sleep.”

“The dishes,” Steve protests.

Danny raises an eyebrow. “Are you really going to choose doing the dishes right _now_?”

Steve glances around the kitchen once more, before letting his gaze roam over Danny's body, his eyes darkening. “The dishes can wait.”

“Oh, the dishes can wait, he says,” Danny grouses as they make their way upstairs, letting Steve hurry him into his bedroom.

“Danno,” he mutters, “shut up.” 

He shoves Danny onto the bed and follows him down and Danny grins. “Make me.”


End file.
